


pray you never (feel this kind of remorse)

by eledhwenlin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Body Positivity, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/pseuds/eledhwenlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil and Clint deal with The Scar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pray you never (feel this kind of remorse)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for picfor1000 for this prompt: [here](http://www.flickr.com/photos/chutney_bannister/2047939643/in/photostream/lightbox/).

Phil once said to Clint that he considered scars to be the land map of your life. He proceeded to kiss every single one of Clint’s scars, the ones Phil had been around for and those which had become before, courtesy of Clint’s father, the Swordsman, Trick Shot and all the others.

When Clint had reciprocated, Phil had shuddered with every touch, as if no one’s ever thought of doing this to him as well. It sort of made Clint want to be the best boyfriend ever. That was the reason the whole Loki mindfuck felt so horrible--realising that it had been Clint’s intel and attack on the carrier that made it possible for Loki to free himself and kill Phil. The month between the attack and until they were read into Phil still being alive was the worst time of Clint’s life.

Right now life’s pretty okay, though.

“Sunday mornings in bed are the best thing ever,” Clint mumbles against Phil’s lips and nuzzles Phil’s neck. “Why don’t we do this every week?”

Phil hums, his chest vibrating under Clint’s hands. “Because whenever we actually plan this, you have to assemble.”

Clint sighs. “Villains have no respect for weekends,” he agrees.

Phil laughs. It’s Clint’s favourite sound. 

Clint slides his hands down Phil’s chest. His right hand ghosts over the Scar and Phil’s breath hitches. Phil is wary of the Scar evoking bad memories in Clint. Oh, and he thinks it’s somehow different from all the other scars, that it makes him weak, as if it didn’t scream to Clint that Phil’s a badass motherfucker to have gone up against a god, died and come back to life.

There’s a lot of bullshit wrapped up in that scar, and Clint thinks it’s past time that they reclaim it. So he doesn’t back off as he normally would. He strokes his fingers firmly over the scar, cataloging the way smooth hard ridges give way to hairy oversensitive skin. He makes sure to brush Phil's nipple, to see if it’s still as sensitive as before.

“Clint,” Phil says, his voice hoarse.

“Shhh,” Clint replies. “Just let me, please?” It comes out more pleading than Clint intended but that’s okay. It’s okay if Phil knows that they both need this, that Clint needs to convince himself that they can and will move past this as well.

“O-okay,” Phil says and buries his hands in Clint’s hair. Clint nuzzles Phil’s chest, taking delight in the chest hair scratching his face. When his lips brush Phil’s nipple, he sticks out his tongue, letting it drag over the nipple until it’s all puckered up. Clint sets his teeth around it, worrying it gently, and sucks it in. 

“Fuck,” Phil groans, his hands tightening in Clint’s hair. Clint grins. Definitely still sensitive. He gives it one last lick before starting on his actual goal.

The scar is long, half the damage done by Loki, the other half by medical personnel trying to save Phil’s life. It overlaps some of the older scars. Clint starts with those, whispering kisses along a knife wound (Caracas) and a bullet wound (Iraq). Kissing the scar feels anticlimactic: it feels exactly like the others. Phil's skin is warm and smells sweat-musky. The scar is smooth and Clint presses kiss after kiss on every square inch.

By the time he’s done, they’re both fully hard, rutting against each other like teenagers.

“Mine,” Clint mumbles against Phil’s skin. It’s wet from all the kisses and Clint's delighted to find out that some places are so sensitive that Clint softly blowing on them is enough to make Phil gasp. It kind of makes up for all the places where the skin is numb.

“Yours,” Phil agrees. The way he says it, without a trace of doubt, makes Clint’s head spin and Clint whines, scrambling up because he has to kiss Phil now. There are thousand words sitting on Clint’s tongue, but they’re jumbled up. Words have never been Clint’s friends, but touch he can do. Touch is easy.

So he tries to put everything he can’t say into his kiss. _I love you_ , he thinks. _Please never leave me. Please never scare me like that again._

The awesome, mind-blowing thing is that Phil seems to understand anyway, reading Clint’s touch as easily as a book, and he replies in kind. The way Phil’s hands tighten on Clint’s arms means _you scared me, too_ , the leg he’s thrown over Clint’s thighs, holding him down, says _don’t leave me either_.

“Clint,” Phil moans. Clint wants him to never stop saying his name like that.

Clint can’t bear letting go of Phil, even to jerk them off, not when he feels like he needs to hold tight onto Phil or else Clint’s going to fly away, as if Phil will disappear if Clint lets go even for a second.

He rolls his hips and moves until their cocks are lined up. He thrusts against Phil, Phil shuddering and groaning underneath him. It’s a head rush and beautiful because they’re both still here to do this.

Phil comes first, and his orgasm triggers Clint’s. Clint slumps down, presses his forehead against Phil’s temple and runs his fingers through the hair on the other side. Phil wraps his arms around Clint, his hands rubbing Clint’s back in circles.

“We should clean up,” Phil says. He doesn’t stop petting Clint, though.

“Okay,” Clint says. „In a minute.“

It takes them close to half an hour to rouse themselves. Clint lets Phil have first shower, content to lie in bed for another few minutes. When Clint comes back from his own shower, Phil is already in bed. He’s not wearing a t-shirt to bed for the first time since Loki. Clint drapes himself over Phil’s left side, his head on Phil’s chest, so he can hear Phil’s heartbeat. Phil reaches for his hand and laces their fingers. Yeah, Clint thinks, they’re going to make it through.


End file.
